The Mayor of Hauser is Gone

As a child, you never suspect that you will become friends with one of your parent’s friends.  Honestly, I was a bit frightened by my father’s friend, Leo St Clair.   He struck me as a little loud when he spoke.  It did not help that when you went to his house, you found on the front door a sign that read: Don’t Go Away Mad, Just Go Away.

Just the same, as I grew into an adult, I became good friends with Leo.  Hopefully, I became a little bit family.  In 1991 my wife and I constructed our own house near his place on Hauser Lake—on property that my father, Leo, and Leo’s brother purchased together.  By that time retired, Leo came up to check on me every day during the course of construction.  He helped me with laying concrete block and helped me lift walls into place.  He would sometimes bring me hardware from town.  I borrowed tools from him.

At some point, everyone that visited the lake started calling Leo “the mayor.”

My life stopped for a while in the spring of 1996.  That’s when my wife, Uyen, was struck by transverse myelitis, an autoimmune disease that left her severely disabled.  After two months of hospitalization, Uyen was finally scheduled to come home again.  I felt both happy and distressed about how I might care for Uyen.  My work in construction did not provide me with time for leave so that I could take Uyen to the weekly doctor and physical therapy sessions that were required for her long road to recovery.  In a conversation with Leo and his wife, Elma, I expressed my concerns about both keeping my job and delivering Uyen to her constant appointments in town.

“That’s not a problem, Mitch,” Leo assured me.  “Elma and I can take Uyen into town so that you can go to work.”

They did just that.  Several times every week, for another three months, Leo and Elma drove Uyen into Helena as she slowly drew herself up from a wheelchair and began wobbling around with a cane.  I was able to remain working, thanks to them.

I cannot count the times when Leo helped me fix mechanical whatnots.  I cannot count the hours of simple conversation at the lakeshore.

I do not have the words to express how much difference Leo made in my life.  “Thanks” seems a bit common.  “I could not have done it without you” is barely a start.

Leo passed on yesterday.

The mayor of Hauser is gone.

Long live the mayor’s good deeds.   

--Mitchell Hegman